


Some Nights

by NicoleCox



Category: Supernatural, fun.
Genre: Alternate Universe - World War I, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Fun. - Band, Hurt Dean Winchester, M/M, Major Illness, Major character death - Freeform, Protective Dean Winchester, Teen Sam Winchester, Young Adult Dean Winchester, major death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-13
Updated: 2014-08-13
Packaged: 2018-02-13 00:35:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2130414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NicoleCox/pseuds/NicoleCox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Growing up, Dean Winchester, has always been told to be a man no matter what and when World War 1 comes around he sees his chance to finally prove himself. Leaving younger brother, Sam Winchester at home to look after their sickening mother, Dean encounters love, loss and heartbreak, learning the key fact: Some Nights we feel infinite and Some Nights we fall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sing me to sleep  
> Sing me to sleep  
> And then leave me alone  
> Don't try to wake me in the morning  
> 'Cause I will be gone  
> Don't feel bad for me  
> I want you to know  
> Deep in the cell of my heart  
> I will feel so glad to go  
> ~ Asleep [The Smiths]

Some say that our sense of smell can evoke the most prominent of memories... and sitting here, next to the sapling of a Balsam Poplar, smelling the delicious aroma of honey, sweet and enticing, I could not agree more. 

The fragrance had seemed to transport my mind to the forgotten memories of playing in tall reeds and scraping knees on uneven roads that a child may run across despite his mother’s wishes. These were distant times, when life was simpler and love was the affection of which your parents bestowed upon you.

However, my experiences were much different.

_First time to a pub and as kid you're ecstatic, buzzing, the excitement almost overwhelming. This is all because your father has decided you're old enough, man enough to visit one. I'm 15. A man now. Man enough to do what dad doesn't such as look after Sammy or feed mom when he's not home._

_But I'm not being disrespectful, no, not at all._

_I watch with curious eyes as father stiffens and fixes his collar before doing the same to mine with nimble fingers. He's already warned me about appearance and so I don’t want to disappoint him; it could result in him changing his mind._

_“I’m ready.” I announce, voice wavering only slightly until I clear my throat, broaden my shoulders and stand straight._

_“Huh?” Father grunted and pulled on his waistcoat then smoothed my hair down with a rough and careless touch. Despite his actions the short fringe still stuck up slightly, spikes facing all different directions. “Go put Sammy to bed and then we can go.” His gruff voice seemed more distant than usual, as though he was worried or troubled by something but I didn’t dare ask._

_Hopping along the creaking boards of our small home, I burst into the room that Sam and I share, grinning happily. With Sam, I don’t have to hide or be ‘grown-up’, I can just be… Dean._

_“Alright, Dad said you gotta’ go to bed now, Sammy. -No, no, don’t give me that look, I don’t make the rules here.” It's those damn eyes. He always does this. He always pleads and begs, asking for just a little while longer, mainly so he can read mommy to sleep._

_“Deeeean!” The most childish whine finds its way out of his mouth and I have to give the kid credit, he almost changes my mind._

_“No, Sam.” I try to make my voice sound stern like fathers always does and thankfully, I succeed at doing so. Throwing his fists down by his sides, Sam stomps to his bed, hair a floppy mess and covering his forehead._

_“Fine! But if I get sick because I’m sleeping too much then it’s your fault!” He complained, his big brown eyes tainted with a frightened glitter that caught the lilttle light and became aglow with whiskey like embers._

_“What? Sam, why would you get sick from sleeping?” I can’t help but frown at his bizarre threat, brows pulling together in confusion and concern._

_“Well…” Sammy began, brown hues downcast, “Mommy sleeps a lot and she’s… she’s sick so I guessed that sleeping too much made her sick.”_

_All excitement that I’d previously felt dissipated, my whole body seemingly caving in on itself, chest tightening. “No, uh, no, Sammy. She didn’t get sick by sleeping too much.” The voice that speaks is shaking so much I’m not even sure it’s my own. I’ve always tried my hardest to keep mothers conditions from Sam, he’s only 11 afterall and although extremely intelligent, I think that for all of us, there are receptors in the brain which disallows traumatic knowledge from entering._

_Therefore to hear him speak in such a way is more than unsettling._

_The urge to curl up and cry was suddenly overwhelming but that woudn’t be very manly at all would it? I didn’t want Sam to think mother was sick and I really didn’t feel like going out anymore. Or perhaps I just didn’t want to become a man because I knew with that transition father would be around even less and Sam would not look at me as his brother but more of a parental figure._

_“Come on, Dean!” Dad yelled from somewhere near the front of the house, causing me to jump and be brought into the harsh reality of Sam staring at me, wide brown eyes glassy with pooling tears. He didn’t understand mothers situtaion, how could he?_

_Holding a silencing finger over my lips, I gesture for Sam to be quiet, unbutton a few a holes on my shirt and then pad down the hallway, slowly, making sure my expression is drawn, eyes glued to the floor and arms curled around my thin waist._

_“Dad, I- I don’t feel so good.” I stutter, partly for effect but mostly because I’m actually scared as hell as to how he’ll react._

_“You’re sick?” His voice seemed to bounce off the walls only to come back and slap me in the face._

_“I- I think so, sir.” It’s a mumble, fear engulfing me. He really wasn’t going to take this well._

_“Men don’t get sick!’ He snarled, upper lip curled in distate as his dark, maddened eyes glared down at me._

_“You’re clearly not ready to be a man! I doubt you’ll ever be ready to be a man.” He added the last bit with a look of disgust masking his every feature; the crinkle by his eyes, the frown lines sketched onto his forehead. I’d disappointed him again._

_“I’m sorry, dad, I just-”_

_“Do not talk back to me, Dean Winchester, don’t even-!”_

_“Dad!” My panicked voice rose above his, emerlad hues clouding with fear as he continued to shout, not for myself, but mother as she was asleep in the next room along. “Please father, you’ll wake-” I wasn’t allowed to finish my sentence as the man before me sent a hard slap across my cheekbone, leaving the skin to be licked by a sweltering heat and kissed with the ugliest of throbs._

_“Don’t you ever answer me back, boy!” The man yelled, his eyes glinting with fury and… and something like hate. With that father stormed from the room, the house, leaving me trembling in his wake, wanting, wishing that I was man enough to go after him._

The scent had caused such reminscences because father didn’t come home that night and I’d found myself burying him a week later with Sammy at my side, crying and clinging to fathers cologne soaked waist coat, asking over and over, ‘ _ **why did papa leave us?**_ ’.


	2. March With Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blue hydrangea, cold cash, divine,  
> Cashmere, cologne and white sunshine.  
> Red racing cars, Sunset and Vine,  
> The kids were young and pretty. ~ Old Money [Lana Del Rey]

The streets were paved with gold here. _Literally_. Golden streamers, thin paper that'd been cut into little squares and triangles. They littered the sidewalks, the roads and gradually became darker with dirt as men in uniform, soldiers, marched atop the shimmering mess.

"Well I'll be damned," Bobby emerged from behind a truck he'd been working on and wiped his grease ridden hands on an old rag, the old mans beady eyes watching with scrutiny as the procession continued, "they actually got old, Ruess, to perform _outside_ of a soldiers dance." He laughed and shook his head sadly, walking to stand beside me as I leant against the wooden framed entrance of ' _Bobby's Bobbing Garage'_. "I say old but the kid can't be more than 24 yet he's been singing with the soldiers for four years now, thought it'd keep him off the front line. He was wrong." It was a fleeting, matter of fact comment said with slight disinterest yet Bobby was easy to read and therefore I could see the pity reflected in his pointed stare. 

"He's a man, Bobby, gotta' give him credit when it's due." Lifting my shoulders in a slight shrug, I turn and move further into the garage so I could finish cleaning my tools.

All soldiers were men no matter their age. Women spoke of them in such ways as did the elderly and were you a fit, able young man such as myself they'd often scowl or spit whenever you walked past. It was a given reaction really, a suitable one because why shouldn't I be out there, fighting just as their husbands and sons were.

The cheers from spectators are deafening as the march continues, Ruess leading the band and a man in a different coloured uniform leading the soldiers. It is truly spectacular and I'd be lying should I deny there being a type of envy. 

Nimble fingers work methodically, cleaning, shining the metal objects that I'd used only moments earlier to tune an engine. This, this is what I was good at, mother would always tell me whenever I were to bring up the subject of enlisting. She'd say something along the lines of, ' _But you're a mechanic_ ,' -cough, add a pleading gaze- ' _you're a good mechanic son_.' And then she'd cough a little more until Sammy would come rushing in with her medicine and water. 

So of course, how was I to say no to a dying woman, my mother of all? You didn't. 

Bobby would always back her up, complain about not having enough staff if I left but he was already letting people go. The garage was too small and profitless for there to be an excessive amount of workers so it was just me and Ash for the time being.

By the time each and every tool was clean enough to be put away, the commotion outside had settled down somewhat so I figured now would be as best a time as any to head home. I made sure to pop into Bobby's office and offer my brief goodbyes before leaving the garage.

Little kids now played among the streets, pretending, imitating the soldiers whilst beggars scurried about, looking for anything that could make them some money. Pulling at the collar of my coat, I kept my head down as I walked, well aware of how some mothers had called their children away, being sure to keep them out of my line. The kids' giggles had rung out after they'd been whispered to by their mother and I'm not exactly sure if it be the paranoia but I could've sworn that I'd heard the word ' _coward_ ' too.

See, I'd like to make one thing clear, I'm not a coward and nor will I ever be one... I just, have a family to look after.

The rest of the walk home was quiet and uneventful apart from the times where the uneven gravel would result in me tripping and cursing in annoyance.

Heavy footsteps were audible as soon as the front door closed behind me, grunting too. "Dean? What the hell, you're late! Mom was so worried." Sam scolded from his place in the hallway. The dirtied white shirt he wore was half unbuttoned with the sleeves rolled in a scruffy manner.

"There was a parade today. It blocked the streets. Besides, I'm here aren't I?" I'd been in a bad mood all day ever since seeing the soldiers so it wasn't surprising for me to snap in such a way.

Sam cowered in on himself slightly despite how he wanted to stand tall; it showed in the firm set of his jaw. The boys shaggy hair covered his forehead in a matted look and curled behind his ears. "Whatever. Mom wants you." He said at last and disappeared to somewhere that wasn't within hitting distance.

Trudging my way to her room, I knocked once and waited for her broken voice to answer before entering. "Hey mama." With all disregard to my previous foul mood, the harshness that often sharpened by voice disappeared completely and I was once again small.

"There's... My little... Angel." She wheezed in between her words and coughed, frail form shaking slightly on the bed.

"Ma..." I warned but only softly, a frown creasing my features.

"Where were... you?" She inquired.

"Working. Where else would I be?"

She looked at me sternly and for a moment I could've sworn to the high heavens that the woman in front of me was not in fact sick at all. "Enlisting... Doing something... So... Foolish." Coughing again, mother took a moment to gulp down three lots of air. "Your brother... Needs you... Dean."

"Mama, I was at work." I insist once more and stand in aggravation, fingers gripping short tufts of my hair as the urge to rip it out becomes overwhelming. "Besides, he doesn't need me. You need him. I... I should be helping people, saving things, saving this goddamned place but I won't get the chance because both of you constantly guilt trip me!" My voice had risen considerably as I'd grown more furious and Sammy had come to lean against the door frame, his big brown eyes round with fear and concern.

"Angel-" Mama started but I held up one finger, silencing her and stormed off past Sammy and back out of the door from which I'd just come through.

The air was colder now, nipping at the flesh I'd left bare in my haste, having forgotten my scarf. It bit at my nose and cheeks and numbed my lips but it did clear my head. I knew why they didn't want me to enlist. Men came back broken and most wouldn't come back at all. Mama didn't want that fate for me and Sammy was so young that he thought should I leave, things would be thrust upon him just as they were me at his age.

And I didn't want that for him, honestly I can tell you with all my heart that I didn't want him to go through the same that I had done but I needed to enlist for _myself_. I needed to become the man that I should've those years ago and then perhaps I'd make father happy even if it was beyond the grave.

I just needed to do something right for a change and I'm sure that if I were to be marching in a parade just as those soldiers had been, Sam would see and he'd be proud as hell too and even mother because her son would be something other than a mechanic... Something other than a coward.


End file.
